Love You Betta
by Cecilia Strife
Summary: Doctor Watson hears that ridiculous song on the radio and can't get it out of his head. Johnlock! Contains strong language and suggestive theme. M for a reason.


**JohnLock: Love (Fuck) You Betta**

Songfic: Neon Hitch- Love (Fuck) You Betta

Disclaimer: I do not own Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's or BBC's "Sherlock". I also don't own Neon Hitches song. Brought on from watching too much Sherlock and listening to too much techno XD.

Warning: Yoai/Slash/ManXMan Love/Sexual Themes. Don't like? Don't read!

Summary: My take after "A Scandal In Belgravia", John knows that Sherlock is aware of Irene Adler's faked death. When a song gets stuck in John's head after hearing it several times on the radio, he begins to let the music set in.

Enjoy ^_^

The first time that John heard the song on the radio he had scoffed and switched to another station before returning about his usual routine.

The second time John heard the song, he merely rolled his eyes and tuned it out when the cabbie politely ignored his request to turn it off.

However, the third time that Doctor John Watson heard that infuriating song he had no choice but to listen to the entire thing. Consequently, immediately after was the fourth time he'd heard the song. Apparently, several listening stations refused to include variety in their daily line-up.

It was after that that Dr. Watson kept catching himself humming to himself or repeating the entire tune in his head. It was appalling. It was ludicrous. It was...slowly starting to make sense to him.

Originally, John just brushed it off. It was like having The Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" replaying over and over again. As much as you really start to hate the stupid song, you can't help but allow yourself to sing it out as many times as you could get away with. Unfortunately, this particular piece of music was now addicting.

It was because he could relate to the lyrics.

John, as much as he loathed to admit it, did have strong feelings for his flatmate. So, when Irene Adler had become a huge part of Sherlock's life he was very put off. He had nothing against the woman. Really! He didn't! But when his bright-eyed friend began to focus all of his attention towards her, his green-eyed monster grumbled deep in his belly.

He wanted Sherlock. Bad.

So, when Miss Adler had gone into permanent hiding, leaving Sherlock behind, John was ecstatic. Not where he wished The Woman any ill will. It was the dark-haired man's obsession that left him subdued. The detective never showed any kind of interest in anyone. At least, not like he did with her. She was the ultimate puzzle. The unsolved mystery. Sherlock invested all of his intrigue in her. His unwavering focus. And it pissed John off to no end.

Months after they returned to their routine of John working at the surgery and Sherlock solving menial cases to keep himself somewhat busy, the good doctor had been left alone at the flat for a couple of hours.

With the song.

Sherlock had gotten a call from Lestrade earlier that morning and sent John a text about an hour later stating that he would be home late. Which was all well and good for John. As much as he loved his mate, he wouldn't say no to a couple of hours of "John Time".

It started out normal enough. He'd gone to the Tesco and bought groceries. Arrived home. Stocked the groceries. Tidied the flat a bit. Had tea. Called the surgery to see if they needed help. Watched some telly.

That was when he got bored.

He'd decided to cook for himself, and Sherlock for when he decided to eat, and decided that the silence of the kitchen was a little unnerving. So, while flicking through the stations The Song came on. He was about to flick over to listen to something more soothing when he'd come to the bridge:

_She's prettier than I'll ever be  
Got yourself a beauty queen, yeah  
But there's one thing I gotta say  
She can love you good, but I can fuck you better_

Despite a valiant effort, John couldn't help but move his hips to the beat. Albeit, he wasn't a great dancer but he could at least keep a beat. He moved around the kitchen gathering ingredient, chopping and preparing their food, and rotated his hips with the song. Experimentally, he thrust his pelvis every once in a while and felt himself grinning like a loon.

_I know she's perfect and worth it,  
Oh yeah, she's beautiful  
But can she love you and touch you until you go  
You keep on tryin' to hide it  
But we both know  
She can love you good, but I can fuck you better_

John turned off the stove and plated his supper before running his hands over his chest, throwing off his jumper and tossing it in a random direction, the first few buttons of his shirt following. Oh yes, he wanted nothing more than to throw Sherlock onto the table and show him how better of a lover he could be than that Adler woman. He mouthed the words as he leaned against the counter and ground his backside against the hard surface as he closed his eyes. It felt good. He could feel his pent-up frustration leaking through his pores as he gyrated to the music. He mouthed the rest of the song as it came to a close.

His imagination ran wild. He could see Sherlock standing there in front of him; long sleek legs in fitted trousers that hugged his hips, button down that kissed every surface like a second skin, and those eyes. Dear God, those icy-blue eyes could melt fire itself! His Sherlock would stand before him, eyes wide, mouth agape, in shock of this side of John he'd never seen before.

_She can love you good, but I can fuck you better._

I can fuck you better, baby!

John was panting slightly as he stopped while the station turned to commercials. He opened his eyes, still grinning when his smile dropped from his face.

There was Sherlock. Standing in the doorway. Smirking.

Damn...

"You're home early." John cleared his throat.

The smug bastard only smirked harder. "The case turned out to be easier and duller than I expected. The jealous mistress killed the husband. Turns out she was more interested in hers and the wife's relationship."

John huffed in nervous laughter. "No kidding. I made supper. Hungry?"

"Starved, actually." Sherlock's gaze never left his.

The doctor took this opportunity to distract himself from his previous embarrassing moment. "Just took it off the stove, actually. I got a bit tired of take away so if you're up to stomachi-"

John's momentum was thrown off as he was forced against the table, his wrists trapped in Sherlock's grip. A heavy blush stained his cheeks as he made to struggle but Sherlock's breath and deep purr of a voice left him shivering.

"I never said I was hungry for food, John."

"Haa, God. Sherlo-"

Lips met in a frenzy. Teeth clicked, noses crushed, lips were nipped harshly and did John love every nanosecond. The eager detective began to work on the remaining buttons on his shirt when John hesitated.

"Sherlock-Sherlock, stop a minute-"

"Why? Obvious where we both want this to go." A sharp bite and suckle at the junction of his shoulder and neck. John gasped and his cock twitched.

"The Woman-"

"Is of no consequence to me, not shut up and let me ravage you."

John smirked but stilled a hand on the taller man's chest. "Married to your work?"

Sherlock glared in annoyance. "Are you not part of my work?"

"I...I guess so-"

"Any more unnecessary questions before we proceed?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John put more distance between the two of them with a gently shove. "Why now?"

Sherlock's rumbling chuckle startled him a bit. "You were too adorable dancing like that. Not to mention you've made me incredibly hard." Sherlock closed the distance between the two of them again before grinding his hips into John's.

John groaned and clutched Sherlock's hair in his hands to pull him down for another smoldering kiss. They both moaned into each other and resumed stripping each other of their clothing. When they got down to their pants Sherlock took John by the hand and lead them both upstairs to John's bedroom. When John raised an eyebrow at his choice of locations, Sherlock smirk. "Mrs. Hudson."

John blushed. "Right. My room."

"Which will now be 'Our' bedroom."

"Yeah? How do you figure?"

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow. John laughed. "Point made."

Before Sherlock closed the door to John's bedroom, as they entangled themselves in each other, one song replayed in the good doctor's head.

_She can love you good, but I can fuck you better..._


End file.
